


Blanks

by TheThirdTimesACharm



Series: Empty Chambers [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M, McGenji - Freeform, Post-Recall, Talon Jesse McCree, deadeye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdTimesACharm/pseuds/TheThirdTimesACharm
Summary: Genji Shimada went undercover to take down the Talon agent infamously known as Deadeye. When the roles had reversed is still up for debate.[An AU where Jesse McCree never joined Overwatch and went on to become a dangerous Talon operative.]





	Blanks

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm new to the Overwatch fandom and decided to write a oneshot for a pair and AU I've grown to like. Please be nice! I tried!

The first time Genji Shimada had officially met the criminal known only by the alias of Deadeye was back when he was in Blackwatch. He had been temporarily stationed at Grand Mesa when the threat from the troublesome gang could no longer be ignored or brushed off to lower level authorities.

Commander Reyes himself had retrieved him and briefed him on the transport down south. The arms-dealing rebel gang Deadlock had gotten a hold of contracts from powerful clients. They could no longer be allowed to roam unhinged.

That had been the first time Genji visited the southwest of the United States. The drop-off location was nearing the border of the country and its neighbor Mexico, and confirmation that Deadlock had some sort of pact with Los Muertos. They were met with fire from both.

Genji was, by no means, a novice to the battlefield. He had been going on five years with Blackwatch, five years since his life took a drastic turn and the only plausible path left for him was to fight for the ones who saved him and gave him the body he currently owned.

One of Blackwatch’s top agents in such a short amount of time stood for verification enough of his skill. Genji was good at what he did, likely more so than when he once was able to call himself human. It was no doubt the reason for his personal selection for such a tenacious mission.

Yet, it was common knowledge that a battle was not won, and a mission not yet completed, through skill alone. Pieces needed to fall in line, opportunities needed to open, and plans needed to be followed. None of which had happened that day.

There was frustration; over the incompetence of their lacking operatives, over faulty communications with command, over Deadlock’s seeming ability to recoup and regroup from the not-so-surprise attack. Genji didn’t have to feel it as much as he saw it plastered on Commander Reyes’s face.

The mission was botched.

The failure was clear enough when the surrounding agents near to Genji all dropped at the same time. Limp and lifeless. Genji might not have even noticed that he too had been struck hadn’t his gaze glanced down at the fallen forms below, seeing red drip down his torso. He might have perhaps joined his teammates in eternal slumber hadn’t the advanced cybernetics kept his vitals stable and running.

Returning to base had been miserable, but not as depressing as the five funerals held but three days later. The damage was sustained and the agents’ families mourned while Genji had lost a heart, now embedded into his chest was a battery, the latest model in technical advancement. Eerily glows of red pulsed in mock replacement of the beat once there. Genji had kept the bullet that ended the lives of his compatriots and shredded one of the last functioning organs he had.

There was a need for vengeance, but another chance to catch the one who had sprayed them all down never presented itself again. Genji may have never physically seen the outlaw known as Deadeye—known for his impeccable aim—but he met him through the bullet he had lodged into his chest.

And it was perhaps as if the wound never healed, but Genji could always feel it twist and chill around scarred skin whenever the man was near. An annoying phantom wound, but useful when attempting to dissuade himself from the forefront of danger.

Over a decade later full of scandals, allegations, conflicts and collisions, collapses, departures, and reunions, and the gunman known as Deadeye thrived in reputation. It wasn’t easy to put that failure of a mission behind him despite all previous ties to that organization cut, and so it was no wonder Genji’s receptors always managed to catch note of that name, of the rising bounty attached to its print, as well as to the atrocities that followed said claims. Deadeye’s risen in rank.

The official record of said individual was relatively small. Nothing much known of the elusive figure save for the presumed headcount racked up by the man, as well as his latest dealings. He was a Talon operative now, saying that to show his potential as an agent he quite willingly gunned down all of his lackeys before the supposed organization scouts. Ever since then he’d been a bigger thorn in the world’s side.

Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra, Doomfist, and the likes of Deadeye himself were all considered high level threats, their bounties bumped in hopes some skilled bounty hunter would be able to assist where the authorities have failed throughout the years. Those foolish enough to be bribed by the hefty prices met unfortunate ends. The Talon operatives’ statuses all stayed the same: at large.

With the collapse of Overwatch, out of its ashes Talon rose to run amuck undisturbed, and so it was to no surprise that once restricting acts made to prohibit previous Overwatch members from stepping in to take the law into their own hands began falling away, encouragement from around the world was offered as long-time friends came together to rebuild and grow anew. News of diabolical organizations attacking trains, breaking into museums, assassinating political heads, and all but terrorizing the populace was now following reports of retaliation from figures once perceived as heroes.

They were seen—and dare say accepted—as saviors again.

Not to all, however. Their organized ventures returned and remained in infant stage. Overwatch had been gone for a long time, long enough for corruption to grow and powerful organizations to clutch the world. It would take time to correct letting the weeds grow and choke out the lush garden.

“You’re kidding,” Tracer let out an exasperated sigh as she peered around the corner, back against the wall and hands gripping pistols. “What are they doing here?”

Sure enough, Talon soldiers began filing their way into the warehouse. They were quiet and well-formed. Regulated to the point of disturbing familiarity.

“I am going to get closer,” Genji worded next to his mission partner. Too often he was previously known for vanishing without a word, giving no form of warning to those assigned to his person. He’s come a long way since then and he intends to make up for the mistakes of the past.

He watched the Brit nod as he turned to scale the wall, slinking into the rafters and following along, logging everything to Winston whom was their current operator. In fact it was the gorilla who figured out just what possible reason these grunts had for being there.

“It’s interesting how the Peruvian government failed to inform us of this,” Genji replied back to Winston after the information about the cargo was received.

_‘Considering that we’re Overwatch 2.0, it’s understandable why they lack some amount of trust—more so faith—in us.’_

“Then why don’t we give them something to confide in?” Genji pulled out his sword, holding it close whilst perched above the squad. He watched and waited. He would strike them down before they even got a chance to touch what they were after.

The moment to strike faltered for but a disruptive moment at the sudden sound of a loud popping ‘PING!’ Genji leaned away from the fire, turning his visuals toward the previous angle of his position. He was shot at.

“Looks like we’ve got company, boys.”

Jingled footsteps echoed into the space surrounding. Genji debated on moving again, trying to determine if he was actually located or just sensed via a lucky shot.

Green vision zoomed in on the added personnel. And just as he had taken in the man’s tall form, dark eyes met his own gaze. Target acquired.

Genji barely had time to leap to the next ledge in attempt to escape the barrage of projectiles fired his way. Lead struck steel structure and bounced and ricocheted around. It all came to a point where he had to stop and use his sword to deflect the bullets flying his way.

“Cavalry’s here!”

Blinking in was Tracer. She appeared high in the air at first, coming down onto the squad with a spray of fire to turn the heat from her partner. As soon as the disoriented soldiers got their bearings, they turned aim towards her.

“Uh-oh.” In a flash she had created distance from them. They fired, their attention earned.

Genji came down then. He landed amongst them, immediately grabbing a hold of those closest and disabling them with elbows and knees. Some he twisted around himself and flung. He enjoyed watched what feat they could travel.

In working on cutting their capable numbers in half he had no time to pay attention to the soldier’s statuses, especially when the one in front of him lurched forward, a bullet ripping through his shoulder blade and sternum to travel into Genji’s upper right arm. He registered the lodged bullet, but his own confusion lay before him of a Talon soldier crying out in pain, clutching at his gushing wound. Inch by inch he slunk to the ground in agony.

“Tsk, now what did I tell you about getting in the way, Hankins?” Genji looked over the fallen soldier. There stood Deadeye, shaking his head with a mock air of disappointment. Gun held barrel up. “Can’t follow a simple guideline, I swear.” The gun was leveled again and this time the standing soldiers ringing Genji moved away.

As the fire came, Genji’s first reaction was to jump away. However he stomped on that instinct and instead took his sword and swung the bullets away. He had grown tired to showing tail to this operative.

Genji watched the man pause after the rounds were used and effectively deflected. His stance straightened, black brimmed hat tilting in time with the motion of his head. Genji could see the man’s eyes better when he rose his face. The rest of his expression was concealed via the black bandana wrapped around him, but Genji saw enough in the twinkle in those dark eyes of his.

“Oh, have a few tricks, do you?” The voice was thick with drawl, and deep. The man talked slow, even almost enacting the same in bodily movement, but Genji knew better than to assume that. He’d seen his work, and a slow man couldn’t accomplish such gruesome acts and drilling missions through laid-back manners. The world authorities still hadn’t caught him if that didn’t sway one’s thinking of this shooter.

Genji observed the ease the man took in reloading. He was purposely spanning the time out. Even the remaining men around the ninja hadn’t closed in to strangle him.

The gun finally leveled again. Genji couldn’t see it, but he knew the man was smiling underneath that covering. “If I shoot you s’more, will you show me what else you’ve gotten hidden up those sleeves of yours?”

Genji’s grip tightened on his sword, he contemplated doing just that, giving Deadeye the show that he so politely asked for. But it wasn’t wise. He would have to figure out a way to evade the oncoming fire and the surrounding grunts without exhausting his abilities.

The moment Deadeye’s finger pulled against the trigger he and along with the others in the room suddenly curled in on themselves. Yelps of pain rose into the air. Unfortunately Genji too had received the same distressed agony shooting from his ears and eyes.

Less than a second later Tracer flashed at his side, taking up his arm. “Sorry about that, love.” Genji was now a distance away from the Talon operatives. He shook his head to clear the pounding inside his skull. “Winston and I were going to warn you, but we didn’t know if we had enough time.”

“Son of a bitch!” Both Overwatch agents turned to see Deadeye ripping the earpiece from his ear and tossing it down with force. The others around him were quick in taking their communicative helmets off, blinking burned eyes and rubbing ringing ears.

“Well, that little trick wasn’t supposed to last long anyhow.” She turned to look at Genji, gaze hard. “We should get out of here.” She moved away then. Genji was going to question her further motives before the warehouse windows erupted in light. Winston had finally managed to contact the Peruvian authorities, and it seems they brought enough backup to bring down a small army.

The Talon agents were still disoriented, but Genji watched them tally behind Deadeye who took to fleeing the first chance the urge washed over. If Genji had been younger he would have likely pursued them to ensure capture, but he knew when to hand over operations to others. He hoped the Peruvians managed to capture the lot of them.

They didn’t.

“Ha! And here I was worried about falling asleep on the job,” came Tracer’s giggling retort from the recreation room. Genji needed to clean his weapons and clear his head. It was a close call that day for the both of them. But he stayed so that Jack Morri—Soldier: 76—could hear his view on the report. “Standing guard duty isn’t something I fancy, but it didn’t turn into that sort of a night, now did it, Genji?”

All eyes turned to the ninja whom had remained quiet during the British woman’s ramble about the recent events. Solider: 76’s was more boring. He was quiet, listening, and waiting.

Genji nodded. “I expected the same. Seeing Talon wasn’t something either of us were expecting. Deadeye was there.”

“One of their top agents.” Soldier: 76 sighed, he looked to Winston who looked as worried as many others in the room.

“What they were apparently after is being moved by the Peruvian government,” Winston assured.

“Man, what were they doing all the way down here?” Lucio voiced up. He and D.Va had accompanied the team as they headed to Peru to uphold a contract for menial assistance recently obtained by the government there.

“From experience: I’ve learned to never try to gamble on where they would rear their ugly heads next,” Soldier: 76 replied to the hanging question. “We need to speak with the officials about their little secret hidden away in the warehouse.” He looked to Winston for agreement.

The Gorilla nodded. “I’ll get the ambassador on the phone right away. They at least have an explanation for us after we put our agents’ lives on the line.”

As he hobbled out, Soldier: 76 turned to Genji and Tracer. “You two did good holding your own.” He then turned his visored-gaze to the cyborg. “If you ever have a run in with him again, be cautious. He plays more than he means.”

 _“He plays more than he means.”_ The repeated phrase looped inside Genji’s mind as he looks down at the bullet-riddled carcasses of the Vietnamese and Chinese delegates splayed out in downtown Bangkok. The area was blocked off, giving nearby Overwatch operative Genji Shimada accessibility to determine likelihood of killer. It didn’t take long at all for the cyborg to figure out the one responsible for the mess. Deadeye’s handwork was written all over. If he liked to play then he certainly liked to make sure his name was out there.

This wouldn’t be the last assassination, nor the last public disturbance. And Genji found himself resenting the current times. Even if Overwatch fell short in the way it was organized over a decade ago, he at least remembers the resources available to have the ability to counter these sort of threats as quickly as possible. As they were now, they were lucky if _one_ of their agents happened to be within a 200-mile radius.

It would take time to fashion what they once had, and there was a high probability that they would never grow as large as the previous Overwatch organization used to be. In the meantime their enemies—the world’s enemies—grew and killed whoever they wanted, knowing there was a low chance of being met with resistance.

Genji hated it all.

In an act of apology he paid respects to the dead’s graves, swearing that he would try his hardest to stop the next disaster from befalling the unsuspecting. He might only be one, but he was certain he wasn’t the only Overwatch member to carry this mindset and believe in these hard-working ideals.

As he laid wreaths on the Vietnamese delegate’s stone he made to leave, but something stopped him. There, on the plaque, laid a single once-lit cigar. It was odd, and overtly rude to leave such trash in a sacred place.

Picking it up, Genji stared at the piece of garbage longer than necessary. He would have found a compost bin and deposited there, but something began growing, a thought, a theory. And so he traveled to China to find out if it was worth anything.

There on the Chinese delegate’s plaque was a put-out cigar. Genji picked it up. Despite its tarnished form, he detected previous heat. It hadn’t been long since it was extinguished.

Was this from . . . ?

Upon returning to Gibraltar, Genji assessed the main console to look further into proving, or disproving his theory. “Athena, I require your assistance.”

_‘Athena, at your service, Agent Genji. What is it you wish to inquire of me?’_

“I need you to pull up the records of all of Deadeye’s known victims, starting with the most recent to the oldest assumed.

 _‘Affirmative. Extracting files.’_ The AI pulled everything out of the system and Genji connected himself to the network to better sift through the documents. _‘Is there any particular file you wish to look at?’_

Genji was too imbedded on trying to discern through reports and pictures, however, nothing came up that gave him any confirmation of his suggestion. As he is seeing, there is nothing that mentions any funeral having similarities of any other victim.

With a sigh, he detached himself. He shouldn’t have worked himself up. What was he to do if he found similarities anyways?

Drumming his fingers against his visor, he shifted in the chair and then leaned closer. He eyed over the files and folders once more before another idea struck him. “Athena, I want you to access every victim’s funeral’s logs. I need cleanup reports. From the time of the funerals to about three months through six months after issued burial dates.”

_‘Request accepted.’_

It didn’t take her long at all to complete the task and now Genji wore into the night looking through the logs and reports. In the end, he found what he was looking for.

He pulled the files that verified his suspicions and created a folder to keep them in. He had Athena keep the information to herself. There was one more thing to do after this step and that was to catch the one doing it in the act. And Genji intended to do just that.

Genji had known better than to let his confidence grow over than the pot in which it was planted. Yet he let it grow wild, forgetting to trim the branches back before they reach into the fireplace.

“You have nothing to fear, I’ve handled these operatives before,” were the words Genji had said to the client he was to protect. He could have blamed it on the lack of support. He could have blamed it on the unexpected direction Talon took in measure to finish their elected mission in assassinating Genji’s protected. He could have blamed it on his client doubting him in the heavy fire and offing in the direction away from him. Any one of those reasons were fair in excuse in the end results of the failed mission, yet in the end, as Genji stood at the proceeding funeral of the deceased he blamed no one but himself for not being able to protect them like he had assured he could.

It rained during the entire procession. Genji could feel accusing glares, and he accepted the responsibility for failing the friends and family surrounding. The man in the coffin just another wiped off of the face of the earth due to Talon—due to _Deadeye_.

The rains stopped after they put him in the ground. After that the people began to disperse, one teary-eyed individual after another. Yet Genji would remain until the end, lost in the thoughts of how he went wrong.

Since his murder, Genji hadn’t been able to function like a regular human in the proper sense. He lost many capabilities that were second thought as a whole moving body, the ability to taste and smell were some of them. It sometimes came in handy should the situation slide him into gory means, however that did not mean he did not miss such luxuries. The scent of moisture was no longer detected, only recognized, taken in and recorded in his automatic digital logs. That of smoke would be one of them as well. He would have noted this if he had paid attention to the recordings running along his visuals, or if he was capable of smelling once again with his own nostrils.

“Don’ go beatin’ yourself up over this. The world’s full of scenes like this. For one reason or another, there will always be an excuse to attend a funeral.”

In Genji’s upset, he lashed out at the late stander. “Don’t patronize me.” Like everyone else did so silently that day. He was tired of their stares and their unspoken condescending words. “I strive to relieve this. And I swear I will one day.”

His tone left no further room for argument, if the conversation had even been picked up to be a form of such. Genji was tired; of the accusing people, of his recent failures, of faulty organizing, of unreliable sources, and especially of the corrupted world around him. Fists clenched as he stared hard into the grave. There were so many ways he could have prevented it all, so many.

“Well now.” Genji hadn’t time for more retort, and he about turned to leave to avoid further banter if he hadn’t watched an object fly into the opened grave. A very familiar object, “That’s one hell of a mission you’ve scaled for yourself. Best of luck to ya.”

He finally paid attention to his receptors and visuals. Taking in the confirmed identity of a half-smoked cigar. In an instant Genji turned, looking for the owner. He had gone.

Genji constantly berated himself for that circumstance. His mind had not been in the right place, and a chance encounter could have spared the numerous victims to fall afterwards if the cyborg had only been paying attention to his surroundings.

It took all of this for Genji to finally disclose what he had been collecting over the years, most recently the cigars. Soldier: 76 didn’t look pleased by the withheld information.

“And you thought it would be easier to break patterns by yourself?” Soldier: 76 stood with his arms crossed and even if Genji couldn’t see that scarred face, he knew that displeased express was painted across such hidden features.

“I was uncertain of my findings,” Genji excused, not backing down. Soldier: 76 wasn’t Strike Commander any longer. Neither of them had any authoritative government qualifications they needed approval of at first.

“It was still a lead when we previously had none,” Soldier: 76 argued, voice rough and pressing.

“At ease.” Ah, there was Angela always there to play the middle ground. “I am certain Genji had his reasons.” She turned to him then. “I am sorry, Genji, but the DNA logs were inconclusive. This Deadeye knows how to remain elusive.”

Genji nodded. “That is expected. However I do ask that you and Winston search for this brand’s distributing location. I have reason to believe he fancies this certain kind.”

Winston nodded, looking towards Angela and seeing to fulfilling the request.

With them gone Soldier: 76 motioned toward Genji, saying, “You realize this is the closest we’ve ever come to locating a Talon agent.” Genji nodded. “You then understand that should we confirm the target it won’t be easy to take him down.”

“I was a part of Blackwatch, if you care to remember,” Genji replied. “Missions like these is what I was built for.” Genji would be the one sent out to take him down. There could be no other.

When verification of where the brand was distributed, the quick road towards apprehending the notorious criminal wasn’t narrow and swift. Instead it branched off into many other paths that Genji had to surrender to the team. He now had to wait for any valuable information in their gathering.

His forced patience came to an end when seemingly valid sources were brought back to them. Deadeye had been spotted, more than once in a single location.

A meeting was called and persons selected to see that this task get carried out to its fullest potential with the risk for setbacks at the lowest denominator. Taking down a high-ranking Talon operative was going to be more than dangerous, and all volunteering for the mission would have to take the nature of their jobs with the utmost severity.

There was no further discussion or thought in the matter as to whom would go into the lion’s den. Genji’s experience and skill made him the first, and only, option. And he was eager to take up the position.

“You are sure you want this?” Angela had asked him for the third time, the first two times was before he was laid out on the table, this time Genji was hooked up, ready to be taken off the support from his current systems. He would make sure this was the last time she asked him this.

“Yes.” He could see her hesitance. The hands on the switches were still, reluctant to slide down and begin the process.

Her brows furrowed, frown of concern present. “But it is not battle-tactical.”

“I am not going there to fight,” Genji reminded. He noticed the look she gave him of _‘But you are likely going to face off with Deadeye himself.’_ And he would admit it was dangerous, but this was the best way to get closer to the target. The further in range you were the less chances you had at missing the mark.

The sigh she let out was loud and heavy, but her fingers slid the levers down. Already Genji could feel the support system slowing to a halt. It was getting hard to see with opticals shutting down.

“You know I trust you, Genji, and you know I worry. I’m not trying to doubt your abilities to carry out your objectives.”

A chuckle echoed out softly. Genji’s voice was losing gusto. “I know, doctor. But they’ll be more accepting if I’m wearing a similar face.” He turned to look at her then, his visor unclasping and revealing himself. Her soft eyes looked at him, always pity in them. It was the last thing he saw until his eyes stopped working and his cybernetic body locked from lack of power. Doctor Ziegler would take care of him afterwards, he didn’t have to worry.

It was quite ironic that Deadeye’s previous gang affiliation Deadlock had originated in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and yet their most reliable sources informed them that said outlaw was spotted in the city quite frequently from those who knew where to look.

In going to a high-end casino, one had to dress for attention, and Genji was looking to gain just that.

Pulling out the swagger of his past he exited the rented jaguar-hover and made his way into the establishment without so much as a motion of hesitation. The suit spanning across his body hugged him in all the right places and the accents of jewelry—a golden neck chain, a diamond earing, and a Rolex watch—gave him just enough face to hint at a wealthy player.

The looks garnered his way were not the usual stares of unfamiliarity and segregation, no, his current outfitted skin exuded off the illusion that he was one of them, human, but with bountiful riches in need to be spent in the games

"Welcome to High Noon Casino," the receptionist greeted. She was paid for smiles and looks. She looked at him the same as the other guests who were visible enough to be suspect of higher salaries. "We do hope you enjoy your stay. Please, let us take your coat." She motioned for another employee to come up to Genji and expect to take the heavy coat held on the Japanese man's arm. He gave it to the boy to disperse in coat check. "Thank you kindly, sir. The staff of High Noon Casino hopes you enjoy your stay and if in need of further service or assistance don't be afraid to ask any one of our diligent employees." Her accent was cute.

Straightening his jacket, Genji fiddled once with golden cufflinks before waltzing into the game room. The slots were to his right and tables only ahead of him. Further in there were private seating, of which he avoided. He needed to be where the eyes were, hoping to catch a certain pair if their off-handed source was to be proved reliable.

Sliding into a chair at a table, Genji looked at the card holder. He nodded. "Joining the game, sir?"

Genji nodded. "Hai."

His posture and attitude came off as uninterested, but he willed himself to socialize with the crowds and players. For the remainder of the night he kept this persona. He made many acquaintances, all of which were too busy counting coins to offer any shred of information on the possible sightings of an outlaw in those parts.

It wasn't hard to schmooze his way into a conversation and group. His model was very pleasing to the eye, a reminder of past beauty, and unnoticed false advertisement to the humans present. The latex covered the scars on his face and smoothing the bulk of his cybernetic body into seemingly organically curved ligaments had transformed him into Shimada Genji once more. However there he went by the alias of Kawasaki Hiro, a man visiting from Japan with too much time and expenses on his hand. And he was quite good at the games. His advanced opticals allowed him to determine the hand needed and cards soon to be drawn. He supposed he could have been more subtle about it, after all, someone was bound to take notice with his stacking chips.

"You fuckin' cheater!" The chair fell hard to the carpeted ground, the tone of the shout echoing throughout the room. If Genji had wanted all eyes on him they were now.

Nonchalantly he moved his lidded eyes toward the offended. The man was an older gentleman, dressed just as nicely as Genji with a club ring on his index finger. He had knocked over his drink in his rage to stand while the women beside him took multiple steps back to create a distance. In fact, so did the ladies currently hanging off Genji's arms.

"Sit back down," Genji played, remaining seated, not the least bit unnerved. "You're holding up the game." He motioned to the others seated at their table, eyes wide at the scene unfolding before them.

Fists shook against the man's sides. His face was even changing a color more along the lines of rouge. " _I_ am?" He questioned before pointing an accusing finger towards the cyborg's way. "The last three rounds _you've_ won. The hell kind of odds are those?!"

Genji only rolled his shoulders, a smile sharpening his features. "My mother always said I was born with an unusual amount of luck."

Gasps rebounded once the man had crossed distances and took a hold of him by the lapel of his silk shirt. He was jostled but in no way intimidated by this man.

"Born with it? You're just a no-good cheat!" He spat. Genji could see his arm winding back. "I want my money back."

"Why?" Genji carried, wondering how far this man would take this confrontation. "When I won fairly?"

"Fair my ass, you foreign son of a bi—!" He swung before security could push through the crowd to break up the encounter. However the oncoming fist never collided with Genji's features, a quick hand hooked around the man's arm, halting the collision.

"Whoa now. Never took you for such a short fuse, Osteen."

Synthetic amber eyes darted over towards the owner of the thick accented voice. A tall man stood between him and his assaulter. The hand on the raised arm didn't budge in the slightest.

"Prepared for some scabbed knuckles? I'd rather you not damage such handsome features." At that dark brown eyes turned towards Genji, there was amusement in the gleam of them, noted easily by the turn of smiling lips.

The raised arm was pulled back, the man, this Mr. Osteen, was still red in the face. Pulling at his collar he shifted his posture, still on the offense. "Mr. McCree, this man is counting cards!"

Brows rose and a low tuned whistle resounded. "Well now, that's a hefty accusation there." Mr. McCree turned himself towards Genji, a hand placed over a vested chest and inclined his head. "My apologies for any inconvenience. Tables don't usually turn so suddenly here."

"What? Why are you apologizing to _him_? _He's_ the one breaking the law!" Mr. Osteen looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"I assure you, Osteen, that if there were any deals such as card countin' going on my security would have caught it." The response was quick and to the point. Meant to quiet and settle the argument at hand. When Mr. McCree turned back to the man he brought out a smile, waving off the offense. "If you'd like I can have staff escort you to a private game."

"I want my damn money back!" Osteen bit out, teeth grinding.

"Then you best go win it back." That was the final annotation. As if on silent cue, security came and stood near Osteen. The man finally came to terms. He left without another word, only a harsh glare directed towards Genji's character.

"Damn. Marlene, could you get someone to come in here to clean up this mess?" Genji turned his gaze away from Osteen’s retreating form back towards his apparent savior.

"Arigato. You must be the owner of this place." Genji's hand went up to rub at his chest, at that notorious phantom wound.

The man held a pleasant smile and even so courteously and dramatically offered the introduction with a bow. "The name's Jesse McCree, you've guessed right. And you must be Hiro Kawasaki, oh, excuse me, Kawasaki Hiro. You definitely turned the evening the more interesting. Don't get much foreigners especially in this location."

Genji's brows rose to show interest. "Oh, you own more casinos?"

"You're damn right. Everyone needs some sort of hobby to keep." Already he was taking up Osteen’s seat, eyes held by Genji. "So what brought you all the ways out from the land of the rising sun?" He then motioned for the card holder to issue a new game.

Genji let his gaze fall onto the drawn cards, also taking notice how the two other players shifted in their seats, almost reluctant to play another game as if they believed Osteen or they didn't enjoy being near he or McCree.

Eyes turned back to McCree, the man still staring, waiting patiently for the answer asked for. "Gallivanting away from business." Genji let out a sigh and motioned to take a card, pushing a fair amount of chips in. Out of the corner of his eye he could see McCree had taken up a hand and thrust himself in as a participant. His amount bet was as high as Genji's. "The older brother is overbearing. I needed some form of release." He looked at McCree, a playful smile goading him. "What better way than to waste away funds?"

McCree chuckled. "I took you for an attention seeker." He leaned back then, intent on getting himself comfortable. It wasn’t a moment later that he pulled out something from his vest pocket, it was a cigar. He bit the butt and rolled it in his mouth. The moment it was lit Genji wondered if the man could tell he was staring.

It was the same brand.

"Pardon." Genji blinked, noticing McCree was staring right back at him, cigar in hand. "You don't mind?"

Raising his hands, Genji rolled his shoulders. "You own this place," he excused.

The cigar was back between teeth and the game carried on. Genji took a few moments to analyze him during subtle glances. Jesse McCree was a well-groomed man; hair was evenly trimmed and slicked back, the same attention given to his mannered mustache and goatee, a black dress shirt underneath a burgundy vest, a gold chain hung loose from a pocket and near a button, his cufflinks shined of something gold or shinier. Rings laden select fingers, particularly the index and pinkies. A silver crested plate decorated the western tie he wore around his neck. Well-dressed and kempt.

If Genji would have been none the wiser he would agree that McCree was a very good-looking man. With an appearance like that it was hard not to gravitate toward him. He currently wondered why such a seemingly well-to-do individual would seek the thrill of the concealed life of a criminal.

However, Genji would not let this chosen persona sway him from what he's seen and experienced from his doppelganger. Deadeye was a dangerous man, Jesse McCree should be treated no differently.

The game carried on without incident. Genji decided to forgo analyzing the play of cards. If he was to lose his earnings, then so be it. He had all of the confirmation for this mission that he needed.

“Well I’ll be damn.” McCree slapped his cards on the table. The end results issued Genji a fourth win. “No countin’ there.”

Genji chuckled, leaning over to pull the chips toward him. He looked at McCree in playful suggestion. “You had reason to doubt?”

The cigar was pulled from his mouth, smile all teeth. “Can never be too sure in this line of business.”

Genji shrugged. “Understandable. Well, it looks like you’re a few hundred thousand short, Mr. McCree.”

“Please.” The man placed a hand above his heart. “Call me Jesse. I like to treat all of my patrons with the familiarity of a family. It creates a trusting relationship. And don’t you worry none, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

He stood then, looking ready to leave. Genji figured he just might as well. So he gathered his earnings. He’d cash-out before departing. Leaving without wouldn’t bode well in a place like this.

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder and a few chips tumbled to the floor. Genji turned to see McCree’s figure looming over him.

“Why don’t you have one of my staff help you with that?” He gave no room for argument. With a nod of his head a collector came with a tray. Genji relinquished his hold on the stash and would have followed the personnel hadn’t McCree mentioned, “I hope you don’t turn in so soon. The night’s still young and I would love to have you around for longer.”

He was called out. Genji couldn’t leave now. He’s been through enough acts of infiltration to know when a target worded wishes of stay. If Genji departed right then suspicions would likely rise, if they hadn’t already.

So he flashed the man a smile, posture laid-back and professional all at once. “Who do you take me for? I’ve pulled far more strenuous all-nighters back in Japan.”

“Is that so?” McCree turned his stance fully toward Genji. The posture told the cyborg that he had gained the man’s utmost interest now. “Then I do suppose I’m gonna hafta try harder to show you some good ol’ American entertainment.”

It was a dangerous situation Genji had landed himself in; to say he had intentionally gained the escort of the casino owner/wanted outlaw wasn’t necessarily true. Genji had sought eyes on him, but this was already turning too far into the scope. He couldn’t discern if McCree saw through his guise and was leading him on to a means to an end. He knew Deadeye would be wise in that area, but the atmosphere of smoke, liquor, lights, and pings of jackpots disoriented the cyborg to the true intention. Jesse McCree, owner of High Noon Casino and its sister chains was a very enthusiastic host.

While those there to play flashed McCree smiles of entertainment, waving even in familiarity, Genji took note of those passed who were in more serious demeanors. Not necessarily security or the staff. These other “players” Genji denoted were no such thing. They glanced at McCree in a manner of deviant interest. They were his underlings, hidden throughout the establishment, dancing around as participants, but they glanced at McCree one too many times.

It would be wise to inform the others as to the find he’s landed himself in, but Genji promised no transmissions. He wasn’t certain if he’d be heard by possible blockers in the vicinity. He was already deep into the snake’s nest, he didn’t need to have them uncurling and striking at him too early.

When Genji took a seat at the bar to show weariness, his counterpart followed suit, seating himself next to him. Genji let out a chuckle, subtly trying to shake the man away. There would be no chance at leaving that night if he followed him like a shadow.

“I appreciate the personal escort,” Genji said, inclining his head in gratitude. “I can admit I am quite famished. Certainly nothing like I am used to back in Japan.” He turned to the bartender, motioning an order.

Jesse McCree chuckled. His posture laid back, but dangerous. Genji wondered if he was purposely showing him these subtle signs. “That was the intention. Can’t have you goin’ back and thinkin’ one Jesse McCree’s own chains were like the others in this here country.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever find myself thinking that.” Genji looked at the drink set down before him. He made to pay but a hand had reached out to lay against his forearm.

“On me,” McCree announced.

Genji let his eyes widen to show surprise. They lidded shortly after while he set his elbow on the counter, cheek leaning against knuckles. “And here I thought this was common hospitality.” His lips curled more. “Do you flirt with all your patrons?”

Another chuckle chortled its way out. Brown eyes that were already dark in the extravagant lighting seemed to darken on topic. He was fully faced towards him now.

“Darlin’, if I wanted to flirt I would be taking you to get drinks in my suite.”

A brow rose, Genji continued to play along, batting lashes. He pushed the made drink beside his elbow away from his person, curious if the front would grant him anything further. “Then why don’t you?”

While the expensive taste was evident on Jesse McCree’s character per wardrobe selection, it was quite apparent in the lay of his penthouse. Mounted heads, decorative vases, an expensive set of paintings littering the wall in sections. Counters cluttered with crystal bottles of brandy, whiskey, and the likes. That was where McCree currently stationed himself, pouring the two of them drinks.

The whistle came from Genji’s lips as he plopped himself down on the furniture that ranged in the more pricey retails. He played the ever wide-eyed impressed foreigner, using this front to take in anything of importance in the room.

“Wow, and here I thought your place would offer a little more humble side of you.” Genji turned just in time to watch the American approach him with two newly poured glasses, he handed one to him.

“Do I come off as hidden humble?” McCree played with his smile, gesturing to his expensive attire.

Genji chuckled, shaking his head and taking a drink. “No.” He shrugged. “Just thought so. Don’t Americans like to paint themselves as such?”

McCree took the seat next to Genji, sitting closer than before, and Genji let him while keeping his attention on his drink in hand to stop from watching.

“Not all Americans like to play the friendly boy next door.”

“Oh?” Genji rolled his head, looking at his host from head to toe, keeping his will to carry out this game of theirs. “Then what do you prefer to play?”

That smile of McCree’s was growing more and more precarious, sharper with each passing second. Perhaps it wasn’t for the best that Genji lured himself into this corner. “My favorite? Probably the casino owner. How ‘bout you, Hiro? Is this your favorite face, or do you much prefer the mask on the battlefield?”

Genji paused just enough. His playful gleam shifted into hardening stances in posture and gaze. His grip on the glass in his hand tightening a fraction.

When McCree leaned back, he did so only to finish the drink in hand. He took his time, sighing as the alcohol warmed his insides. Genji knew he shouldn’t stare, but he didn’t take his visuals off of the man seated too close, poised too dangerously even as he quite casually leaned forward to set his glass down on the marble coffee table.

“I admit I wasn’t quite sure about it, but . . .” He looked back towards Genji, his eyes in particular flicking toward the drink in the Japanese man’s hand. “My suspicions were subsided the moment I gave you that poison.”

Looking down, Genji’s brows furrowed. Poison? But he didn’t at all feel . . . His cybernetic support system fought off any foreign entities in-taken that would do harm. That meant . . .

“Call it rude, but one can never be too cautious given my line of work.” Genji was sitting face-to-face with the infamous Talon agent known as Deadeye, and Deadeye was sitting face-to-face with the cyborg ninja known as Genji.

For a moment there was silence between the two. Both taking the other in, neither moving. There was strain, a knowing to act first and fast, but it was beat down by Genji and his need to know how long he could play the fiddle before the orchestrator kicked him off stage.

“I didn’t peg you for a business owner. Catering to the whims of self-righteous customers.” All playfulness was gone, but Genji wanted insight to a man as notorious as a shadow in a shadeless park.

“And I didn’t peg you for human.” His eyes glanced down to Genji’s form, taking him in now in a different light. “If you even are.”

“As you said before, _Jesse_ , we all have many faces we like to take off and try during various styles.” Genji offered him one last smile, a competitive one. An expression he was willing to fight for once their bodies moved to act.

The grin spread to Deadeye, the man showing the threat he really was behind an easy-going drawl and friendly smile. “It’s fun, isn’t it? To play normal every once in a while.” That struck a chord with Genji, and he briefly wondered if his disguise wasn’t that incognito or if Deadeye simply had an eye for imitations. “Though, I must applaud you and your friends for being able to uncover this side of the profession. Ain’t no one been smart enough to think me as a man to stay in one place for too long.”

“You aren’t, are you?” Genji said it as a statement.

“Perceptive,” Deadeye praised. “Come sunrise I’ll be ridin’ off, that’s supposin’ you aren’t here to off me.” Dark eyes met perfectly artificial optics. “Are you?”

It was undetermined who made the first move. Perhaps it was Genji in his intent to stun and escape, or perhaps it was Deadeye who perceived the oncoming strike and blocked the glass swung at his head by raising his arm. The impact had the Talon agent indenting into the back of the couch, the bounce tossing him to the floor, the coffee table taking his impact in the tumble.

There was an opportunity to strike again in quick succession in hopes of battering, but Genji had what he had come for. He’d met the crime lord himself face to face. Not much more was needed after that. And if he could manage to get away he’d be able to return better equipped and fight another day.

That was his current mission.

Just as limber in this form, Genji maneuvered around the furnish of the room, taking in the escape route before him. He was aiming towards the sun windows but fell short of their reach once something sharp and pulsing flew up from a point in his leg. The electrifying charge gave him a startle and the consistent pain locking his form and frying controls had him cry out in short-lived agony.

He came crashing down into the pool table. Eyes widened in unease as he witnessed his arms and legs twitch, motions completely uncontrollable. He had such a vantage to turn his gaze and take in Deadeye, holding in his hand a rifle. He must have loaded it with short shots.

“Leavin’ without so much as a ‘good-bye’? That’s mighty rude of you.” Deadeye approached Genji then, the disabled at a loss of what to do and how to defend himself with his body cut from internal commands. Damn it all!

Hands fell on him, and Genji was hauled back towards the lounge room. He was tossed onto a couch not touched by their destructive hands, and there he remained while his eyes tried hard to follow Deadeye’s movement. The man paced around the piece of furniture like a circling shark in the water, idly fiddling with a revolver he had taken up from hidden chambers no doubt stashed throughout the entire apartment.

The exposed barrel twirled, Deadeye likely making certain every slot was full with ammunition. A secured click and one flip around his fingers showed Genji the familiar motions he’s seen on the battlefield. No matter the face, Deadeye was standing before him.

“So, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how many there are of ya?” The neck of the revolver rubbed against Genji’s cheek. The steel was cold, that much he could feel with the part of him that could still function to its best.

“Just me.” Genji didn’t need the bastard sending out his lackeys to scour the city for the others. They weren’t close, Genji made certain they kept their distance just in case something like this . . . just in case the mission turned awry.

“Jus’ little ol’ you?” Deadeye didn’t seem convinced. He moved away. On the other side of the room he picked up an old land-line telephone, mumbling something into the receiver before hanging the device up. He had quite the taste for the old in fashion, hadn’t he?

“They won’t find anyone,” Genji assured once he heard Deadeye return. He kept his gaze up toward the ceiling, prepared for whatever was to befall him. He knew the others would take care of themselves.

“I know.” Genji looked towards the man. He wasn’t looking at him, instead he was focused on the lay of the weapon in his hand. “However I am gonna need them to find the ones who ratted my location.” Dark eyes finally glanced over toward Genji’s immobilized form. “Can’t have that in my city.”

A silence passed over them. Genji wondered why he was still alive. Why a bullet hadn’t lodged itself into his skull. Instead he watched Deadeye’s movement with confusion. The man moved around him, looking at him like some newly found creature. It wasn’t a surprise that he pressed closer, an unarmed hand came to glide fingers over his cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle.

“Just how much of you isn’t there?” It seemed he got a partial answer when Genji moved his face away from the touch. He retracted his hand then, his head bobbing. “Not much?” Without restraint he reached down, running his palm along Genji’s arm, grasping his hand and moving his fingers. His eyes watched Genji’s face for reaction. “Maybe more than let on.” Those hands knew no bounds, running down to determine just what was real and what wasn’t.

From his own reacting expression, Deadeye was more surprised by what he felt than what he saw. Eyes met Genji’s ever watchful ones. “Damn. And here I had thought you one of them there omnics. Coulda fooled me with all’a this.” He rose Genji’s nonoperational arm and then let it drop lifelessly to his side. He then leaned in closer, his face just a breath away from Genji as eyes scaled down his features. “Nah, you’re something else entirely.”

 _“He plays more than he means.”_ Soldier: 76’s words resounded again, and it was then Genji realized he was simply a new object splayed out for the cat to roll around in its paws, or for the dog to sink its teeth into and wriggle it around until shredded.

The snicker made Genji blink in confusion. A piqued smile displayed on Deadeye’s features. “You know,” his tone dropped a few octaves, his posture easing as he leaned back against the couch, one hand running up and down Genji’s still leg. “I wasn’t at all misleading when I showed interest in you.” That rubbing hand moved from Genji’s artificial thigh up towards his face again, a short caress falling down to his chin. Genji hadn’t the reaction timed enough to turn away, instead he looked at Deadeye just as the man looked at him.

“Didn’t take you for a machine lover.” Genji’s harder glare met Deadeye’s more interested stare. He didn’t like that look in his eyes. It was far more dangerous and malicious than the glint of murder.

“Come now, we both know that’s not what you are.”

Genji glanced down, watching as Deadeye smoothed his jacket out, fingers popping off shirt buttons one by one, revealing his form beneath. To the naked eye he looked just like any other human underneath concealing clothing. But he was too perfect and he knew Deadeye noticed.

A whistle cascaded across Genji’s battered eardrums. Dangerous eyes now attentive of what he looked like beneath the layers. “God damn. A high-end model you are.” Genji could feel Deadeye’s hand slide down his torso. A rough inhale, chest expanding underneath those fingertips easily alerted the Talon operative. Deadeye paused, his hand warm over Genji’s bared chest, layered only with latex to conceal the mechanical scarring. “Found some of the real parts of ya.” Deadeye grinned like he was winning a game, yet his interest never feigned.

Those hands carried on, moving aside clothing to reveal all of Genji and to see where the genuine met the synthetic. Deadeye had no shame in his stares at all.

“Tell the builder that their work is top-notch.” Deadeye rose his hand, offering a symbol of superb approval. “Hell, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference if I couldn’t put my hands on ya.” He paused, fingers drumming. “Now I wonder what you really look like.”

Genji hated being unable to move. He wanted those hands off of him even if he couldn’t feel them. He wanted the man away even though he was his rightful captor. Yet he was useless as fingers felt around, discovering and finally finding the parts where skin was connected to cybernetics. Deadeye began to pull at the latex concealing the connections, and true skin was reveled, infuriating Genji.

“There’s the real you.” That shit-eating grin needed to be decorated by a few loose frontals. Not all of the latex was ripped from the cyborg, but as soon as it was peeled off of his face, he watched scanning eyes take in a look. “Someone did a real number on you.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done to your victims.” The almost normalcy irked Genji. His immobilization would be the death of him.

Deadeye chuckled, no sympathy from his twisted conscience. “Still hung up over that?” He paused, glancing down. His fingers ran over a noticeable scar across Genji’s chest. “Well now, would you look at that.” Calloused fingertips rubbed over the circular lighter patch of skin. “This one’s mine. I’d recognize it anywhere.” Twinkling eyes turned back toward Genji’s face. “Now where did you pick this up at?”

“A lifetime ago,” was Genji’s reply.

“Yeah?” Deadeye shook his head. A wave of nostalgia passing over his features as he looked at the mark. “I can tell.” He pressed a knuckle between his brows. “I don’t hit the heart no more. Between the eyes is my specialty.” He laughed. “Damn, must have been years ago.”

An audible gasp stuttered past Genji's scarred lips the moment he felt a mouth rub against said old battle wound. Eyes now focused; he glanced down, attention on the gunslinger who was leaning away from the torso he had planted a kiss upon. What in the hell?

"Given your state, I think it an attractive feature."

Teeth grit. Genji narrowed his eyes. "And I'm certain you'll grace me with more."

Deadeye chortled once more. He leaned down, dark eyes looking into Genji's optics. "I'm beginning to wonder just how well you know me."

Another gasp came out. Genji's eyelids fluttered, brow furrowing in confusion. He could now feel Deadeye sliding his hand down his side, fingers currently rubbing against his hip.

"Starting to get feeling back?" Genji looked at the man, he was quite observant to a body not his own. "Good. I want to see your reaction to this."

Genji anticipated a shot, a stab, a snap, anything entailing to sadistic pleasure, yet there was none of the assumed. Instead he was left weighted, unable to move but a few fingers as sensations of caresses fell down his abdomen, running along his pelvis and then further down to rub in between his thighs.

The jingle of his belt buckle and slide of the leather strap seemed to echo in the room. Genji's pants were done away with. It appeared Deadeye wanted to see _all_ of him.

"Damn, I still can't get over the fact of how human you look." Genji could feel the man's calculated fingers run down hips and circle around the artificial phallus. "It's a shame you never wore this suit during our previous encounters. Should think you'd look mighty fine twistin' and twirlin' and scalin' like this."

"This is not a battle-equip model," Genji humored, desiring the man to stop gawking at an inanimate set of limbs.

Deadeye shook his head then, clucking his tongue. "But it is a suit for battle, isn't it?" The shine in those dark brown eyes of his let Genji understand that man was smarter than previously perceived. "Just different sort of battles, amiright?"

Feeling shot directly up his spine, Genji's neck arched at it. The fingers wrapped around his length had rubbed just the right way, his sensors were coming back online stronger than he realized.

"This was made to make you feel human again, wasn't it?" Genji was silent, didn't humor an answer. Even with those dangerous eyes looking at him for just that, Genji turned his gaze, refusing to play along anymore. After all, what did Deadeye know about him? "Probably at first to blend in, to infiltrate. I'll bet they sent you out until they realized a cyborg needed as much camouflage as the boys in uniform." He paused, not doubt taking in Genji's silence, trying to unravel the mystery of him there. "Your mechanic really did an outstanding job, I'll bet this model—battle-equip or not—is your favorite. You know why? Because you miss feeling like this; having eyes look at you as one of them instead of an odd project crafted in the science fair, you miss others pressing close instead of pulling back with unfamiliarity, most of all you miss feeling every little part of yourself. It gets mundane taking hits when it doesn't make you feel anything at all, doesn't it?"

"Be quiet." Genji's voice was low, barely audible. His turned gaze held. He wouldn't look at Deadeye and he wanted those damn hands off of him. The bastard knew nothing of what went on inside his head.

"Am I hittin' the nail on the head?"

Genji's eyes closed. "Stop trying to speak for me. You can't."

"I do know one thing I can." Genji's eyes opened then. He turned to look at the man hovering over him. The American gave him a strange look. Genji couldn't discern its meaning before he spoke again. "I can make you feel human." He leaned closer than he was before, Genji could feel his breath against him, those caressing hands now stilled, holding him in such a way that nostalgia struck the cyborg of times long ago filled with pulsing music, grinding bodies, and hands upon him like they wanted all of him. "Do you want that . . . Genji?"

Of course Genji did. Even though he's come to accept his past ruin and embrace his future standings scaled with the body built, Genji still yearned to feel the humanity he was born with, but he wasn't certain he wanted such in the arms of a Talon operative who's killed more of people that Genji has been charged with than he has taken down world terrorists.

Dangerous as the man was, his lips were forward and leading against Genji's mouth, and those hands purposely rubbed against the parts of him that managed to survive the life-threatening attack his brother had made on him all those years ago. The touches made him shiver, coaxing him enough to press back against that too gentle mouth. That had seemed to be the reaction Deadeye had been looking for to detach and trail open-mouthed kisses down his jaw, down his neck. Just like his hands, Deadeye's mouth paid particular attention to the real parts of the cyborg, and Genji felt himself unravel.

He should have been ashamed for bending to the demands of the ministrations from the enemy, yet even as further control returned to his system, Genji couldn't find it in him to reach out and strike back, not when Deadeye was doing everything but assaulting him. It wasn't until the man leaned back, moving his mouth away from the nipple he had lavished bountiful attention upon and proceeded in unclasping his vest that Genji realized his once immobilized hands had been scrunched into Deadeye's vest. His grip fell away as the article did. Deadeye was now slipping buttons from his dress shirt out of their loops.

Loosened enough, Deadeye pulled at his tie, not a moment too late afterwards he gave Genji the attention he saw a craving for in those optics. Lips rubbed and teeth pulled. The moment those sensations fell upon synthetic covering Genji let out a gasp, his senses heightening by the second. He didn't need to inform Deadeye of this, the man already observant to the way limbs twitched from certain ministrations.

That firm grasp returned to Genji's artificial penis. Deadeye squeezed him like the handle of a pistol, and Genji could only imagine he reacted the exact same way as any given weapon in the hands of this man; recoiling as arms moved out of transmitted reaction, they found themselves wound around the murderer's neck, tugging closer to feel human skin against human skin once more. Deadeye obliged with Genji's needs, and he settled above him, arms wrapped just as tightly around his frame as those overtly strong and deadly mechanical limbs were.

Genji wanted to believe he had simply lost himself to the situation. But he was conscious of every little thing, responsible for every decision made to carry what they were doing forward. He wanted to think Deadeye was orchestrating this the most, however, the fact was he was just mirroring Genji's motions, heeding to the call in those shining optics and parted scarred mouth.

"Ah!" Genji's head sunk further into the pillows bundled beneath him, eyes clenching shut and fingers curling into mused chocolate brown locks.

Their labored pants bounced off the walls in the room, Deadeye shifting, taking in Genji's reaction once he worked his hand between those spreading legs. He moved his palm away, taking a look at the lubrication dousing his wandering digits. "Heh, you're full of surprises, aren't you, darlin'?" The delight on his face was evident especially when he returned his hand to that hidden destination, no doubt understanding just what this unique model fitted on the cyborg was initially intended for.

Genji found himself twisting, rocking on those plunging fingers. Deadeye kissed him again, their heavy breaths so close were better spent being inhaled by the other mouth. The gunslinger was one hell of a kisser.

The electric shocks traveled up Genji's spine, wires connecting his damaged nerves brought his network to life, and his body reacted. He was beginning to feel the heat radiating off of Deadeye, rubbing against him, pressing him further into the cushioned furnish. He was firm, built in a way Genji could never accomplish for himself. Features of attraction that Genji should keep away from, but his hands clung and grasped against muscular arms, knees moving now, pressing against gyrating hips. Deadeye shouldn't be between his legs, but he was.

A shudder rippled through the cyborg when fingers moved, leaving him entirely. Once again Genji's eyes flew up to the ceiling, paying attention only to the feeling. His focus would have remained hadn't a hand tugged on his chin. Genji's gaze turned, he looked at Deadeye, the man was ruffled; hair strewn and clothing displaced, a pleasing sight. Genji wondered the thoughts the man had on him.

His contemplation dissipated as Deadeye leaned in to take a kiss. They clung to one another again, mouthing and thrusting. Genji's reacting groan tumbled into the American's mouth, and each other vocalized sound following the penetrating thrusts.

It all felt so good. Genji excused the standing point of morals in favor of living in the moment and accepting the illusion of feeling what pleasure would be like if he were a human. Let Genji be selfish for once after sacrificing for far too long.

Despite their tight embraces, those hands continued to travel, rubbing specifically over the human parts of the cyborg. And Genji swooned, arching into wandering palms and pinching fingers. The sensation of their rolling hips had Genji's electronic parts sizzling his organic senses, making his legs crush Deadeye more into him, ankles hooked behind the man above, holding close.

No matter the speed or force behind Deadeye’s bucking thrusts, he could not harm Genji’s body. Given that, the cyborg strangely felt that even if he were human, this man, this wanted criminal, would still do everything within his capabilities to keep him from complete harm during such an act. Perhaps a foolish idea, but it didn’t stop circulating inside Genji’s mind. Call it a false sense of consideration for his partner, but it had the cyborg shifting, laying his face against such a warm neck moist with beading sweat.

It was like that Genji stayed when his senses overloaded and complete feeling returned to him. Internal command functions at 100%.

Hearing Deadeye sigh out alerted the ninja of his counterpart’s attained orgasm. He could feel his body ease down above him. The sound of his palpitating heart easily monitored in his receptors.

With his own breath released, Genji closed his eyes, trying to capture that feeling of ending bliss like he used to so frequently all those years ago. It was fleeting, just a passing taste on the tip of his tongue, but it was brought back to his body for a moment.

Arms and legs weren’t commanded to hold, and so it wasn’t hard for Deadeye to move himself away, pulling out and back completely. Genji was left lying there, motionless. Left by himself to reach out and catch those swift feelings that he had once said he no longer missed. He did. Deeply so.

He could hear Deadeye shifting next to him, standing as he made himself proper again; shirt straight, vest fastened, and hair combed back as evenly as a hand full of fingers could. When Genji turned his lost gaze to look at the man everything came crashing into him. What had he done? Why had he done it?

His gut churned and blood ran icy. He let himself fall into that trap and held no regrets during his imprisonment. Now he regretted.

He deserved the feel of the barrel of Deadeye’s revolver leveled underneath his chin. Genji said nothing, knowing that not even a sudden movement in reaction could save him from the fate he had so carelessly fallen into. And for what? A fleeting feeling? How damn foolish he still was.

Those deep brown eyes looked into his own, they held the same light he had seen during their encounters on the battlefield, a gaze ready to shoot down any that stood in his way. This was the Talon agent known as Deadeye after all. And Genji had failed his mission.

His eyes closed at the feel of lips upon his own than at the sudden bite of a bullet. And just as Deadeye pulled away, eyes shining the same, his face would be the last thing that Genji saw before the sound of the gun resounded and rattled his form much the way the bullet did ripping through his bone and tissue.

And it was Dr. Ziegler whom he took in the moment his vision cleared of any blackness and hazy distortion. She moved away, her face quickly falling from the signs of stress. “Visuals officially online, reception at 94%” She tapped something into her datapad and then came close again, seating herself next to where Genji was laid on the examination table. “How are you feeling, Genji?”

The cyborg blinked, his optics leveling out as he took in the sight of her and the objects surrounding him. He was back in the medical ward. “Doctor?”

“It’s okay.” She always smiled so sweetly to him. He could feel her hand laying on his. His fingers twitched at the motion. “If you don’t want to say anything then don’t. I’m just glad you’re finally conscious.”

Genji didn’t want to ask how long it had been since Santa Fe. Instead, he had more pressing concerns. “Did they catch him?”

By the way Angela’s face fell was answer enough. “Jack tried to pursue, but they were all gone by the time he and Ana reached the location. If it wasn’t for him, Genji, I’m not sure what your status would be today.”

Genji nodded, glancing down. “I see.”

Whether they all blamed Genji for the failure to apprehend one of Talon’s top operatives it was left unspoken. Angela moved, she typed into her datapad and entered in commands to the machines Genji was attached to.

“You were lucky you know.” Genji turned his gaze away from the hands in his lap and looked at his doctor. She didn’t quite look at him, simply kept her gaze on the stats shown before her on the computer. “He missed.” She looked at him then just as recollection came upon the cyborg and his hand slowly came up to where he had last felt the press of cold steel. Even she motioned to her chin. “The bullet went right through the jaw loop. Instead of passing through your brain the projectile exited through your mouth.” She pulled up the x-ray of the once-damage and showed him. “It wasn’t hard replacing the shot-out teeth. I’m afraid replacing brain matter would have been a bit more difficult.”

A synthetic finger slipped into Genji’s mouth. He felt his teeth, they all appeared to be there, but knowing Angela she would make certain the replaced pieces looked and felt exactly as the originals. His fingers then slid down underneath his chin and there he felt the indent of scarred tissue. Perhaps another mark for Deadeye to admire.

“Forgive me, doctor.” Angela paid attention closely. “But I am going to have to disagree with you.” Genji watched confusion lace over her features. “No amount of luck would have saved me from Deadeye’s aim.”

“Yet you survived,” she explained.

“I did. And it’s only because Deadeye doesn’t miss.”

There had been no intention to kill the cyborg with this shot. Perhaps another time, but Genji persisted in life only because Deadeye so decided he would.


End file.
